Effects of a Rider
by Brown hair and eyes
Summary: Alex affects lots of people, and not always in the most obvious ways. A series of one-shots.
1. Chapter 1

Effects of a Rider

I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for one boy.

Alex Somethingorother. And neither would thousands of others.

Sorry, let me start again.

Rewind back 20 years or so and you would find me at school in set two for pretty much all my subjects. I was clever enough to be in set 1 with the better teachers, harder work and better end of school grades but due to the fact that I had been lazy and just coasted the last three years the school had left me there. In set 2. It was driving me mad, I was trying but the teacher was distracted by the other pupils so the chance of any one to one was nil.

Then remarkably over the term a space opened up. For some reason Alex- yes that was it - Rider, an good all-rounder, had gone off the rails. At first, everyone gave him some leeway because of his uncle's death but then he was struck down with a range of illnesses that sent him out of school again and again. With his grades dropping so badly the school had no choice to send him down, leaving as space in the overcrowded set for me.

I felt so guilty about it at the time, ashamed about enjoying some-else's ill fortune but then the rumors about him taking drugs began and I was too busy to worry.

Now, when I look back, I realize that I got As in my GCSEs and a-levels because of Rider, I manged to enter medicine at uni because of the a-levels, I managed to become a Doctor because of the course and I became the top of my field because of the effort I put in as a Doctor.

I am where I am because of Rider, I wonder where he is now?

AN: This is going to be a series of one-shots, mostly of minor characters. Feedback appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Effects of a Rider

(Sorry for inaccuracies)

Part 2

Secondary school wasn't great. In fact, I fell off the wagon completely.

Started smoking ciggies, then weed, then tried someother stuff when they offered. My friends were leaving, my parents mad but I simply didn't care about anymore, just about the next fix.

I was well angry when I found out that the local supplier didn't have any, some rubbish about Skoda being locked up for dropping a boat on the police. When I saw the write in -ing newspaper I knew some of at least was true. I had to go cold-turkey. But looking back I am kinda glad – if I hadn't stopped I wouldn't have got my job and probably wouldn't have met Annie. But really, a boat?

Still, I owe a punch and a thanks to however did it.


	3. Chapter 3

Effects of a rider chap 3

Alex, on a mission, bought a milkshake that contained some lovely micro-organisms colonies inside due to a faulty seal. Alex didn't actually ever manage to drink it - his mission went disastrously wrong half an hour later – and thus avoided a mildly irritating episode of food poisoning.

However, the person who destined to buy the bottle if Alex hadn't interfered would have given it to their brother in hospital. This patient would have died from the bacteria due to the weakening effect of the treatment on his immune system. This meant he wouldn't have returned to his job as a teacher and inspired a generation of children to go into engineering. Because of this there wouldn't be enough mechanics to design the revolutionary "green plane" an invention that revolutionised air travel.

Alex Rider never knew.


	4. Chapter 4

Effects of a Rider chap 4  
AN: thanks for everyone who has reviewed, and apologies for any inaccuracies in the story.

Paul ran his hand though his hair with an air of desperation. The company was going to go bankrupt; there was the truth. He had been trying to ignore the facts throwing himself into each of the few projects he had on but it was time to face the invertible. The company his father, his grandfather, worked so hard on was gonna go under and there wasn't a thing he could do. It had been painful enough cutting down his workforce to the bare minimum but turning up tomorrow to tell them it was over would be awful.

The bigger multinational companies could do it faster and cheaper using substandard (in his opinion at least) products while the local business that used locally produced quality materials and employed local people. He sighed. The phone rang, a depressed tinny sound in the near silence. Probably another call from the bank, Paul thought as he picked up the receiver.

"Hello, London Woodwork, how can I help you?"

"It's Henry Bray, Headmaster of Brookland Comprehensive. I am interested for your company to do some work on the school."

"Brookland, I went there myself! What type of work is it?"

"We need a new science department, due to an accident, to be honest it needed updating anyway. Fortunately the insurance covered most of it as it wasn't the schools fault and your company is recommend as reliable. Is it possible to meet your there tomorrow to have some quotes?"

"That would be great, say 12 o'clock..."

The company recovered, the Brookland job giving it a name and serious publicity and the new science block was a great success.

Alex still felt guilty about the whole affair, it was his fault that the construction was needed.

Jack was very pleased with herself when she found the _perfect_ cabinet in some furniture shop.


	5. Chapter 5

Effects of a Rider

AN: I don't know much about ape psychology but I did wonder what happened to that ape who didn't go to space. Feedback appreciated.

The ape was happy; he didn't have to go into the cramped-closed in-small-metal-trapped-box again. Instead he had been brought to this new place.  
While it wasn't home there was lots of space and other apes!  
One ape in particular in fact was attracting his attention. He have not met a female like her before, she nice...

The zoo keeper sighed as yet another group of schoolchildren came to admire the new family.

The little kids were bad enough pointing and yelling and getting stuck in the bars but these were _teenagers._  
Litter dropping, graffiti creating, spot covered manics! The amount of gum he he had to retrieve from the enclosures after these so called "educational visits"...

Only one of the ruffians, by the look of it, was paying any attention about the breeding schemes for endangered animals the teacher was telling the group enthusiastically about. Even that one, in Jeffery's opinion, looked tough and violent with his short blond hair and pierced ear. At least the ape population of the zoo was growing and this new male adult seemed to be good and strong. Thank goodness, for small mercies.


	6. Chapter 6

Effects of a rider chapter 6  
AN: Not quite as pleased with this one. Feedback appreciated please.

Jane sighed as she watched the school children mill around the square, wishing that this moment of relaxation wouldn't end. The trip had been a success so far, the flights had been fine, the museums intriguing and the students generally well behaved.

"He's doing well." Mr Grey's voice, the male chaperone for the trip interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh you mean Alex, that's good. I was worried about him; his Uncle's death had really knocked him off balance. He's such a bright kid. Oh well, shall we let them have half an hour of shopping time? I admit I intend to get something for my sister." Jane confined.

"The one that's getting married to that lovely boy with rich..."

"...and very overbearing parents. Yes. I was hoping to get a mask to calm the mother in law. The ones here are so beautiful though a little expensive."

"Yes, they say they date back from the 13th century you know.."

Then the bag snatching happened, an experience despite how local and exciting was not one Miss Bedfordshire ever wished to repeat. The mess her bag was in afterwards with all those pigeons...

But she was incredibly grateful to Alex and almost forgave him for disappearing from the school trip and causing all that fuss when she saw way the mother-in-law-to-be was charmed by her beautiful mask the bride-to-be gave her. "It's incredible darling, how did you tell we were missing a center piece for the living room?"

She completely forgave Alex when she saw her delighted sister walk down the aisle with her equally joyful husband. Not that she would ever tell him about it, that would be unprofessional after all.

(She still wondered where he went in Venice but never gathered up the courage to ask him. The way he reacted so quickly gave her food for thought however lacking any true evidence for any of her theories she decided to just keep an eye on him and perhaps not tick him off next time he ran through the halls. )


	7. Chapter 7

Effects of a Rider chap 7

It all was Alex Rider's fault.

Or Ian Rider's.  
Or actually, when she thought about, the fact she was planning what to pack from her university room first that Jack Starbright inadvertently avoided her own death. She did this by in her distraction she accidentally went on stop further on her bus back to her lodgings than she intended to.

Meaning that the man who intended to murder her to avenge his abuse by his mother missed his chance to stab her in the dark alley next to the bus-top. The man was more than a little insane which may explain when he realized that she hadn't got off on her normal stop and his amazing plan was ruined he punched the bus-top window with frustration causing two results.

Firstly, the police-man nearby took some interest in the man, who when the CCTV was reviewed had haunted this particular bus-stop for more than eight hours without boarding a bus, and went over to confront the man about his vandalism causing the man to flee and a pursuit begin. Consequently the man once he had eluded the police officer to hide out in a dingy bedsit in attempt to avoid the cops who were apparently "onto him".

It was in this 6 day hideout when the second consequence of punching through a glass window that hadn't been cleaned in months made them selves apparent. The man who had wrapped a sheet around the bloody mess of his hand - driving the contaminated slivers of glass further into his flesh - was more concerned about the prospect of being caught by the "pigs" then the streaks of red that appeared up his arm. After-all red was a healthy colour wasn't it; nothing to worry about, defiantly not enough to make him go to hospital so the coppers could get him. No siree he wasn't falling for that trick. Let him tell you...

He never left the bedsit and the council decided it might be a good idea to use plastic in bus shelters, not that the funds came round to replace them for a long time.

Jack was just glad she didn't have to take the bus so often and Alex was more concerned with the fact he was 'sposed to cope with someone who declared that they should be the one cooking when they couldn't cook anything as well as he could (Ian valued independence) than about a random stranger who died alone in a bedsit.


	8. Chapter 8

Effects of a Rider chapter 9: The second in command

She was the deputy of MI6. She had sent countless men and women under her command into danger and possible death without thinking if was right instead thinking if it was necessary. And it was. Sometimes privately she doubted the wisdom of using some the methods but had never voiced the concerns to anyone to Rider came along.

He by resisting, forced Mrs Jones to actively think about they were doing. And she discovered she hated what they were doing to Rider, the fact that every-time they met he was a little more pessimistic (or realistic as he claimed "Every time I come here I get nearly killed and none of you care! Just leave me alone!") it made her double check the situation all the facts to see if it was really necessary before picking up the phone to Personnel.

She found out she hated the way he was able to kill a little more easily each time they met and started trying to equip him better, give him a reason not to go for the killing stroke each time he fought. She knew it was futile because as he said "One more dead is one less next time I'm out there." And knew it was the truth. She rediscovered her own conscience as Rider battled for his own.

She started making the system work for her, used the favors she earned over so many years to save the lives of her people. And in the privacy of her own head she didn't work for the system, now she worked of justice, security _and _freedom.

So when Blunt retired she was ready. She was ready make Rider proud.

Alex between back to back missions thought he saw Jones look at him with a little softness in her expression as she explained the parameters of his mission against an international slave ring. He blinked and the emotion was gone as she continued carefully explaining why he would only have back up for half the mission time.

His expression and drained acceptance as he excepted the lack of support and the decrease in his chance of survival cemented Mrs Jones resolve she _would_ change MI6 and just maybe the world that forced this to happen.


	9. Chapter 9

Effects of a Rider chapter 9: The _other _trouser leg of time.  
AN: Sorry, I posted chapter 8 twice here is the chapter that should have been chapter 9.

An image comes into view; an young girl sitting surrounded by friends playing 20 questions in a sun-filled bedroom.  
She has freckles on her face and arms that are slender and unblemished.  
She has hair band amidst her curly hair and her father watches from the neighboring room.  
And she is happy as she laughs and giggles but you know it won't stay like this forever.

An image comes into view; a teen sitting with her mates gossiping about the latest fashion in the high class boarding school as dusk falls.  
She has well applied make-up concealing her spots on her face and arms that are tanned from the latest holiday in France.  
She has hair cut short and her father is working on a new law in a room far away.  
And she is content, worried about the threaten letters her father has received and the school, but feels safe in the knowledge it won't be like this forever.

An image comes into view; a young adult slumped on the floor as the torturer produces another knife (_no not another no please not another help please stop_) in the dank, blood filled room as the red light of the camera stars accusingly as she writhes.  
She has blood dripping down her face and arms that are raw from the chains.  
She has hair matted with gore and her father is frantically pleading with the police, the authorities, anyone to get his daughter back (_or at least that is what she hopes, he has been so distant of late what if he doesn't care what if I never leave this hell-hole?_).  
And she is barely sane, mind filled with pain and her captor's wicked taunts, but clings onto the hope that someone (_anyone_) will rescue her find her.

A blond haired boy does.  
Or doesn't. The trousers of time split.

In One world she is found by him and they escape (only just).

In One world she is left in the dark for weeks more, until something inside her breaks and hopes of a savior fade. Then she is found. But most of her never left that room.

An image comes into view; an old woman sitting alone in large room.  
She has scars that cover her face and arms twisting her wrinkles this way and that.  
She has no wedding ring, no children, no family left.  
And she is full of pain and deep, deep sadness.

For no-one had loved that face that scarred (_who would when it is ugly useless wrong an abomination that should never have lived now nearly dead what have you done what really no works of art no buildings not even children you are nothing nothing AND NO-ONE WILL MISS YOU_).

Let us be glad we live in the other world.


	10. Chapter 10

Effects of a Rider chap 10

Ian never really admitted to himself how much looking after Alex had changed him.

It was only after a few months that he realised that he could never hand the kid off to the social workers, he was kin, family. That word never met much to him before. John and him hadn't been that close when he was alive and he had only seen Alex a couple of times.  
Huh, family. That word have never conjured up a picture of a tousled haired, very bright toddler before.

It was affecting him a bit. He felt sorry when he saw pictures of children in the files he was handed. Wanted to help, no wanted to avenge the kids in the trafficking rings he occasionally encountered especially when he was undercover and unable to help even in the smallest way.

After Alex turned 10 Ian realised that he wasn't getting any younger when he looked forward to getting _home _to Alex and Jack. Discovered the look of exasperation Jack sent at him after each long "business trip" away.

He thought about giving it all up. Getting a paperwork job, settling down. But the thrill, the danger would get him every-time. Before every mission he told himself "this time I'll give it up, this time, just one more". He was addicted to the adrenaline. But hated leaving them behind.

So he tried to make the time he had with them count. Teaching Alex rock climbing, diving even going to the karate lessons. He guessed he was trying to feed the Rider thirst for danger in "safe" ways.

So when he went to Sayle industries he wasn't thinking completely about the mission or his cover, he was thinking "this time I'll leave it for good."


	11. Chapter 11

Effects of the Rider chapter 11

Alex never told Jack about why the two had an unscheduled sleepover (or movie night as the teens preferred to call it).  
And Tom never told Alex the whole tale of why he turned up shivering on the doorstep without even an a coat on.  
They were good friends and some-things didn't need to be spoken of; they understood each other too well to need such explanations.

It had been minus ten degrees C that night. _Fourteen_ degrees Fahrenheit.

Tom had to leave.  
They were shouting, ignoring him, blaming each other, pulling him into the firing line then yelling at him for taking the other's side when he told the truth. It was tearing apart.

They didn't even see him leave.

Tom walked down the road his head pounding, breath swirling out in front of him in gigantic clouds. Why did they have to do this? Why did they have to argue? Why didn't they care about him? He was tempted to just sit and wait on the bench at the corner of the road just out of sight until one of them came to look for him or he froze. If they didn't look they didn't love him.

He waited three hours.

If Alex hadn't called his mobile, he would have sat out there the whole night waiting for his parents.

If Alex hadn't called and bullied him to coming to his house for the night away from the screaming voices he would have broken.

If Alex hadn't been there...

Twelve homeless people died that night of hypothermia- it could have been thirteen.


	12. Chapter 12

Effects of a Rider chapter 12  
An: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, I hope I've corrected any mistakes. Please give more feedback, thanks for reading! The swimming pool thing actually happened to someone I know if your wondering.

How much does it take to save a life?  
Hours of blood filled work in a surgery room.  
A few minutes of frantic shouting to get those _stupid_ boys out of that open air swimming pool _get out get out never swim during a thunderstorm!_ Before the lightening comes down as the last one climbs the stairs.  
A smile.

Alex Rider saved a life once by accident. Just the Right place, Right time.

The girl, an intense student, was unbalanced already due to her overfilled rucksack.  
It only took a push from one of the impatient boys behind her to make her loose her grip on the hand rail.  
It only took a second before gravity grabbed her and wrench her down the stairs head-first.  
It only took a took an unsuspecting teenage spy to save her life by slowing her momentum before the pair of them hit the floor. Broken bones or spine became bruises.

The fall might not have killed her but it could have paralyzed her.

The fall might not have killed her but it could have traumatized her.

The fall might not have killed her but it would have killed her future.

One-less doctor, one less amateur musician, one-less poet or writer, one-less wife, or mother, or child.  
One-less life in the world we inhabit.

All it took was one step further or one harder shove.  
Never say you can't change the world; Alex Rider did, by accident.

And she never remembered to say "Thank You".  
Its the small things that matter.


	13. Chapter 13

Effects of a Rider chapter 13

Once a upon a time a writer saw an inspiration, a strange event that haunted her. It came in a form of a boy and his friend.

She had been sitting in a café trying to sort out a plot line that she feared never would even reach the publishers, let alone actually get printed. The material was too dry, too formulaic, too normal – too boring. She sighed and stretched while her gaze wandered lazily around the room. Then she saw him.

He was hidden in the corner, his blond hair in a mess. Another teen waiting for a date she presumed, but thought again when she saw his eyes. They were wrong, lifeless, like the body was running on autopilot because no-one was in. It was chilling.

It lasted for a second - maybe a little longer - but then it was broken by the entry of one of his friends, he started smiling, laughing, he looked alive. But she wondered. What was his story and were would it lead?

She still wonders today what happened to him. Not even her fortunes from the sale of her best-seller novel can tell her the end of the story of the blond with dead eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

Effects of a Rider: chapter 14  
AN: Happy Christmas. Hope you enjoy and review! Thanks for reading.

It was perfect gift for her son, Sarah decided as she quietly wheeled her new purchase home. It would be the first Christmas without Dad and he had been carefully _not _asking for a bike because he knew the money wouldn't cover it. But it had only been £30 in the charity shop and it _was_ really good quality teen's bike with cut-down frame and full-sized wheels and in remarkably good quality, a few small scratches but nothing worse so she forked the money over anyway.

The volunteer in the shop had said a boy dropped it off earlier that morning claiming it "was too small for him now". She whispered a silent "thank you" to that boy who had grown too old for his bike, that it would make John's day and maybe even let him forget the pain. She hoped that he would be happy for a second, then carried on with her life.

For a second, Alex felt a shiver of warmth that some would have called a taste of a mother's love. He smiled and thought of last crazy Christmas with Jack, maybe it all would be okay in the end.


	15. Chapter 15

Effects of a Rider chapter 15  
AN: Thanks for everyone who has reviewed, someone suggested a negative effect so this is what came to mind. Apologies if find over exaggerated but in my defense some events are really important to some people.

In a way Mr Grey would have been better off if Alex Rider never existed.

It was his fault. Alex had played the good student, worked hard throughout the summer, encouraged and improved Mr Grey's self-respect as a teacher as he easily soaked up the subjects that had been thrown at him. He had made Mr Grey doubt the rumors in the staffroom, that Miss Bedfordshire always tried to stop, that Alex Rider was "a bad sort, mark my words, it won't end well". He had been happy.

Then the trust had been shattered.

Alex Rider betrayed him. Betrayed the promise between them.

And it had broken him.

He hid it well, pretended he was only worried about what the board of governors would say about "carelessly losing one of his pupils" - he knew they would give up their complaints when they found it was only "that Rider boy". He hated it.

He hated that he had gotten his hopes up, had allowed himself to think that he had "made a difference". Miss Bedfordshire tried to explain that Alex lived in a different world that he was only a teen, that he didn't understand what the consequences were.

Maybe she was right.

But the incident made Mr Grey less trusting, less enthusiastic, more pessimistic.

So when a drunken hen-night party-er came up to him and asked for a date, he just swore and walked off and never met his future wife. The world was just to unfair for a little thing called love. If only he knew.


	16. Chapter 16

Effects of a Rider chapter 16  
AN: So here's another chapter. Apologies if offended but some care-homes may not be up to scratch. Also last chapter, Mr Grey hated the fact that he couldn't trust Alex now because of what he done if that makes sense. As all ways please review and thanks for reading.

"Excuse me, excuse me, could you-, could you wait a momen-"

(They never listen, never, so busy rushing around, never stop talking, moving, thinking, can't they JUST STOP IT!)

Then they tell him off for shouting – "that's not very nice of you Mr Smith, now sit down and stop misbehaving. There's a good man."  
They talk to him as if he's a child, to stupid or dumb to do anything but follow instructions.  
They don't now he can hear there gossiping and complaints about him- they think just because he closes his eyes, or finds it difficult to find the words (tip of my tongue, you know, that thing) he can't hear them. Well, he can and he hates it.

He knows his memory is going, and that's terrifying.  
He knows his heart's bad - the old ticker has survived over 80 years now. But that doesn't mean someone can't just listen to him for once.

It's another load of children doing their "work experience". Silly idiots the lot of them, this isn't _work_. It just means another week of badly made tea and Beatles records he doesn't like. But still there's a chance that one of them might just _listen_ to him.

He pulls the sleeve of one as the teen brushes past, and watches as he spins around and relaxes. But the old man still spots the way he never shifts his centre of gravity from the fighting position, not a civilian's response. And he laughs; the chuckle soon turning into a hacking cough. The boy waits, no pity showing in his eyes.

"Sit down." the boy does. And Mr Smith talks stutteringly, and slowly, indisposed with coughing fits, about the war and the blood and the mud. The boy listen as he recounts his days, the fights he was in, the aches and pains in the old war wounds that remind him that he was there that it really happened. And for a moment he doesn't feel so bad about the cup of tea the nurses place just out of reach or the way they never use his first name.

Then the boy got called off by one of his teachers who gave him a detention for tardiness "when you were clearly instructed to get on the bus 10 minutes ago and now have delayed us all". The boy stood sullenly and accepted the unjust punishment – he had bigger problems in his life the old man knew.

The old man died two weeks later. The boy didn't. But only just.


	17. Chapter 17

Effects of a Rider Chap 17  
AN; I don't think this obne is quiet right is probably a little AU. As always please review and thanks for reading.

Michael Roscoe, billionaire, didn't regret many things in his life but sending Paul to that _stupid_ boarding school was one of them.

Point Blanc Academy, even the name sounded suspicious now – Point Blanc – like a gun. He had been worried when Paul left- worried that Grief's treatment wouldn't work but now he just wished he could have his son back problems and all. Because the polite, hard working doppelgänger wasn't acting like his son at all.

It wasn't the way he moved or the small mannerisms – they were there. It was the lack of letters to his ex-wife that warned him something was amiss.

It had been a messy divorce but Paul had always kept contact with the little gold-digger. He never talked to Michael about her but every week a letter would appear on his desk for him to post to he current address. But when he returned from Point Blanc there wasn't a single one.

He didn't know what they had done to Paul in that Academy – psychological conditioning perhaps – but Michael Roscoe wasn't standing for it. He had just got off the phone to a contact to MI6 reassuring him something would be done and they had just the man for it. (His suspicions provided the excuse for the agent to forward his information about General Victor Ivanov and Robert Merrick to Alan Blunt).

He didn't see Paul lurking the corridor afterwards. Michael had been so reassured by the phone call he never thought to check of the supposed Paul's whereabouts. It was an action he wouldn't live to regret.

It was because of Alex the agent gave such as positive response, that they _would_ have the right "man" for the job. It was because of this response that Michael Roscoe died. It could have happened differently, oh so differently – but it didn't.


	18. Chapter 18

Effects of a Rider chapter 18  
AN: Hope you enjoy, please review. I might be posting a little slower due to life getting the way...

Smithers smiled; it had been fun designing those pieces of equipment considering how best to keep them suitable to have in a teenager's house. He pitied the agent who had to look after a teenager for part of their cover but he guessed it made sense – what agency would allow an agent to have a child with them on a mission? He hoped the kid would get some sort of training just in case.

-

A few weeks later he found out the truth.

He was ballistic at first until _Mrs Jones_ came and sat him down and talked to him.

She highlighted the situation to him, explaining that _any _adult plant would be immediately exposed or distrusted. She explained to who Alex was, the skills he had, why he could do this. She said that sometimes people are called to make sacrifices. She said that she didn't want to do this but if, as they suspected, large amounts of children were at risk then surely it was better to risk one child in order to protect the rest...

Smithers recognized the philosophy - Utilitarianism – he had disliked it in his classes at school and still didn't like it now.

He knew that it was only because he was the best at developing unusual products and his outstanding performance that he was being told this at all.

He felt he was standing at a precipice; he could retreat and cling to his supposed morals or step forward and see where the fall would take him...

Then he realized that his decision wouldn't stop the kid from being sent in. It would just mean that he would have inferior equipment with him.

He made his decision. He would do his best to help the kid and if that meant working to support something he disagreed with to give the kid the best equipment, a friend inside MI6 - the best chances of survival so be it.

He hated the fact he enjoyed his new work, the way he delighted in the challenge that designing and making the new "gadgets" was. So he pushed extra hours, extra care into making them perfect. He went against his superiors to get Alex the bike for Eagle Strike knowing he would get in serious trouble for "losing it" ("You're lucky you're not on suspension – one more mistake, one more accident...").

It wasn't much of an apology. It wasn't all he could he could have done (he could have protested, told the press, could have... could have done... _something_) – but he hoped that Alex would forgive him – or at least know that he tried. He never talked about his work, not even to the select family members he was allowed to because he was ashamed.


	19. Chapter 19

Effects of a Rider chapter 19

The Medal Maker  
AN: This is based on my imagination. Apologies for any inaccuracies but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Please review and thanks for reading!

_He died fighting for what he believed in. _Alex could already see the worlds inscribed on the medal. Jack could wear it at his funeral. - Crocodile Tears.

He remembers it because usually when a medal is ordered it is dispatched immediately or at least taken away from the workshop. This one wasn't. Over the years it turned to these ones. A small box of medals hidden inside a safe waiting.

Occasionally he wonders who they are anticipating to die. Then he chastises himself.  
It may be simply that an individual is in particularly high risk situations regularly and wishes to give the relatives something immediately or that they are currently under cover and cannot be rewarded without being revealed. Right. (He doesn't convince himself).

He knows his job is unusual and he is lucky to have it, that the medals aren't just finished by some machine. He tries to put in effort into every medal. They have performed their sacrifice, have earned praise and this is his way of showing his respect by checking that every medal that leaves his place is perfect, or at least as close as he can get in this world to perfection.

He wonders though who's life is represented in that small, innocent box called "pending". He wonders how has the foresight (or professional detachment) to order these medals, these little bits of metal and ribbon which mean so much to some people before it has happened.

And it makes his heart feel cold.

He is close to retirement now. He will teach his sons of the tricks of his trade but will not encourage them to enter it. After all will they really want to serve this way while there still is that little hidden box called pending.


	20. Chapter 20

Effects of a Rider chapter 20  
AN: I'm not sure if I should continue this fic, any opinions guys? As always feedback is welcomed! Thanks for reading.

The woman sighed as she spooned yet another serving of overdone chips onto a plate; she did want her life to be like this. When she was younger she wanted to be a doctor or a writer, to change the world – for the better.

But instead she ended up her as a dinner lady in her old school's canteen, where the kids didn't even say thanks. Although, Milly thought as she stared at the unappetizing over-boiled vegetables her partner was serving, she couldn't blame them for that.

Honestly, she knew that they were working on a budget and having to serve large numbers and having to meet health and safety regulations and government guidelines and having to provide for special cases but even she could make something better tasting than this slop for the children to eat. It can't be doing them any good.

"Can I have some of that please?" the unexpected politeness lifted Millie out of her musings and she looked up to see a pale boy patiently waiting for his slo- food. To Milly's maternal eye he was too thin and therefore a point of concern.

"Are you sure you want some?" she responded.

The boy looked at the mixture and shivered slightly in revulsion "Not really but I better try and eat it anyway." As Milly watched the boy walk away with his pitiful lunch she suddenly decided to _do_ something about it. "After-all" she murmured to herself "growing children need good food".

So a few hours later after her shift finished she ended up talking to the headmaster Mr Bray who then explained to her the situation carefully about the budget and the guidelines and the health and safety standards and then told her that "quite frankly I agree with you". So he let her draw up an alternative menu and they worked on the ingredients and the processes to ensure they would be suitable. Then they proposed the menu to the board of governors who then checked it further for any possible problems. It took awhile but eventually the food being served in the canteen changed for the better.

Alex didn't notice; when he returned from his latest "illness" he was to bone weary to notice that the food he was eating was more palatable, he was to busy trying not to think of the face of the man he strangled.

A boy two years younger survived the summer. He wasn't very special, just a child of drug addict who's husband had left her. Who was just trying to keep his little brother and sister fed when his mother used the money set aside for food for her latest fix. His only square meal of the day was the one he was served at school.

He survived to grow up.

He wouldn't have.

He lived.

And changed the world.


	21. Chapter 21

Effects of a Rider chap 21  
AN: A little longer than usual. Please read, enjoy and review!

She was getting too old for this. Her age was catching up. In the Little things: like her reactions a tiny bit slower, her brain a little less quick to come up with an excuse when her cover was shaky, the fact she got winded faster on a chase, the wrinkles that make-up couldn't quite cover up. It hurt to know that she was getting old, that she would soon have to give The Job up to the younger generation. With out The Job what did she have? A small apartment, some savings, a lack or friendship or romantic interest, an old body and a paranoid streak a mile wide that made her inwardly shudder an the sound of gunshots on the TV what the others called experience?

She kicked herself for moping on the job. She was lucky to live as long as she did, to have good health and a home of sorts to return to. She was lucky to have food to eat, water to drink, (reasonably) clean air to breath and shelter. She had had a successful career that on the whole had brought her more pleasure than pain. She shifted through the crowds as she kept following her target , then winced as she had to break into a short jog as he disappeared round the corner to keep in range; despite his age he was good.

She didn't think he had spotted her yet, most high level operatives kept to evasion patterns even when they don't believe they are being followed out of habit of instinct. She headed round the corner trying to keep her speed up as she entered a unfamiliar piece of the shopping centre. That was strange – background information on the target suggested that he didn't like any of the stores in this part-

"Keep walking" the voice was a whisper but it was dangerous. She had no doubt that he would react badly if she wrecked his cover by reacting unusually for example by fighting back.

"Start walking back into the main part of the centre and sit by the bench by the palm tree." she nodded slightly and obeyed. After all, she couldn't run and backup wouldn't come in time so the least she could do is try to complete her mission. Why couldn't her last one be simple? She should have been more suspicious by the easy way Crawely let her go in return for performing one last mission. There's always a catch girl, she chastised herself,, and this time you didn't look hard enough for it.

"Are you alright dear?" she said to the blond teen who sat next to her on the bench "you look a little unwell."

"I'm fine, Aunt Mira. Mum always said you worried to much." she appreciated the cue but still the risk of being mistaken as related to him, as a tool to lever him for his enemies would never let her enjoy her retirement, a girl got to look after herself...

"Prerogative of a distant family friend. Still having problems at school?"

"No. That little explosive incident sorted itself out in the end. Speaking of problems, I think you might soon be due for a little dose of that family bug, you know how quiet Uncle Ian was after he caught it? Maybe a little time abroad would help with it?" If what he was implying was true... she appreciated the warning. It was time to get out.

"I don't think so dear, but it was nice seeing you, shame I couldn't stay and talk longer." She reached forward and hugged the boy, planting the tracking device as ordered but tapped him on the back to show him were it was before releasing him.

She left. The states she thought would be nice, or perhaps France, no not far enough away from her old business.

She left the country that evening.

There was a fire in the flat below that night and later on in the investigation it was discovered that the landlord had been bribed not to replace the fire alarm batteries in the hallway. By who was never discovered. It could have been coincidence (but a good spy never believes it).


	22. Chapter 22

Effects of a Rider chapter 22  
AN: Sorry for the delay had guests, birthday ect. Thanks to all who have reviewed so far and please do tel me what you think! Thanks for reading.

He sighed as he swung his bad into the room, the heavy weight of it reminding him of the pile of marking he had to do before the start of the 1st period. However ever said that teaching was easy should be shot.. or better locked within a room for 4 hours with a class of teenagers without caffeine, that would show them. He wasn't getting any younger, the energy didn't come so easily, he sometimes got some of the facts mixed up not that most of the children noticed (the ones that did just thought he was doing it on purpose to test them). A few more years and they would ask him to retire and he would get a small plaque or perhaps some flowers and card signed by the staff and he would be sent home.

He'd be able to sleep in and not stay to 9 at night at parents evenings and have the time to try and pick up the hobbies he'd dropped 50 years ago and go for long walks...

He was dreading it.

It wasn't being old that bothered him. It was _feeling_ old. He hadn't got married, or made any artwork, hadn't invented anything important, hadn't got any families to speak of. When he was younger, when he was new to teaching he leaped at the chance to change the world, to teach someone something worth knowing. Years of teaching and seeing the best and worst of human nature had taught him pessimism but he still had that desire deep down and he had failed. Another birthday and he'll be gone.

He pulled himself out of his murky thoughts and towards the pile of "Of Mice and Men" coursework. And the kids thought their part of the deal was boring!

He paused. There was something unusual in the mess of his desk. Carefully he fished it out. It was a cup of... no his nostrils must be deceiving him! It couldn't be his favourite brand...

"So did the ninja thing go okay then?"  
"It wasn't ninja thing, it was just.. to say thanks."

The world moved on, and classes began. A small coffee shop in the centre in town stayed open a few days longer (and became a favourite writing spot for a well known poet). An old man didn't trip down the stairs at the end of a day. An ambulance arrived at the house in time to save the mother's life. The world moved on – it all mattered in the end. It had to.


	23. Chapter 23

Effects of a Rider chapter 23  
AN: I've just realized that I posted chapter 8 twice, so I fixed that, please do mention this stuff and look at the new chapter. Thanks to everyone who's stayed with me and reviewed, I really do appreciate it. Hope you enjoy!

It wasn't realistic, was the first thought to cross Alex's mind when he saw the boy practicing his part for the musical he was taking part in. Not just the superficial overt no-one ever sings songs in the middle of their life view, but the emotions the boy was giving his character. They weren't right. So, despite his better judgement, he said something.

"Hey. Could I have a word?" I looked up from my script to see Rider waiting.  
"Yeah?" I wasn't in Alex's crowd even before he started getting "ill" so I was a little surprised.  
"What is it?"  
"Its just..." he sighed and looked a little nervous which seemed out of character for him. "Its just, I don't mean to sound rude but, your character's wrong".

I started to object. "If this is about acting or dancing being _sissy_ or something I don't wanna hear it-"

"No! I just mean that this guy's a gambler right? But he's not one of the locals, he's not trusted like one of the guys and probably, despite his reputation, doesn't have the cash to hand for this bet. So he _has _ to win this bet, not only to get the girl but also to make sure that he gets out of there in one piece. He knows what he's doing is risky and dangerous but he can't see another way out and he's the only one how can fix the mess he's got into. So he _has _to win. It's not just a game, isn't not cool or fun... Sorry. Just can you, I don't know, get that in as well? Thanks."

He walked off, looking as if all the energy was drained from him. To tell the truth I was a little shocked – where did that come from? It almost sounded cathartic to me, as if he knew how it felt... No, I dismissed the thought, after all Alex had been a good in drama before maybe it was just a flash of imagination not experience. I remembered what he said though.

I was so pleased when my mate was spotted by a talent scout to go to the West End. He worked so hard for it, it was only fair. He was going to give up and be a nurse instead. Apparently it was his "quality and depth of performance of the role of Sky Masterson" that got him the place. Strange how the world works.


	24. Chapter 24

Effects of a Rider chapter 24  
AN: Sorry for any inaccuracies and sympathy for anyone who is doing exams. Thank so much for people to reviewed especially those like Bloodredfirefly, TantalumCobolt, J'aime lire, The Unfamilar ect. who reviewed multiple times. I do honestly appreciate the feedback given. Thank you for reading!

"Sugar." The word was filled with anger that would normally be expressed in a swear word.  
"Sugar. I don't _need _this. Not now, not today." the teen stared at this broken calculator; the motherboard must have been smashed when the bullies trampled over his bag because not a glimmer of light showed through the shattered screen.

He was without a calculator on the day of his A-level Further Maths exams and the school refused to lend any to anyone because "it is the students responsibility to look after their possessions and be prepared" (translation: the school didn't have enough cash to buy new calculators so insisted that everyone should bring their own).  
He _needed _to pass this exam, it was the only way to secure his scholarship to Oxford and there wasn't time before exam stared to take the bus into town and buy a new one. He was -in the colloquialisms of his classmate- screwed.

He was frantically plied the back off the infernal machine to try to repair it when a group of year 11's headed into the hall for their GCSE exam, one of them paused at the doorway before heading towards him.  
"Hey, are you okay?" the voice wasn't sarcastic as years of systematic bullying had caused him to expect.  
"No my calculator's broken and I've got my A-level" he checked his watch "in _three minutes._ Surprisingly, I am not O.K!" his panic caused his words to come out harsh than expected "I am sorry I just, need to.."

"Look." The younger boy interjected. "Have mine."

Gerald looked up in surprise, "No, I can't do that, you have an exam too-"

"It's only GCSE and I'm not going to pass it anyway. Trust me. Just have it."

"Thank you. Are you sure?"

"Yeah" the boy sighed. "Lets get in there."

The pair of them rushed into the exam hall and Gerald slipped into his place as the teacher started berating the other boy for being "carelessly unprepared, Rider It's as if you don't care at all."  
Thanks, Gerald thought silently at the blond teen, I owe you one.

Years later, an agent was found barely alive in enemy territory using a new triangulation logarithm that was sold to the services only months before by a rising star in mathematics, one Gerald Tyler.

The agent was too injured to know or care.


	25. Chapter 25

Effects of a Rider chapter 25  
AN: In response to the reviews: thanks and yes, the agent in the last chapter could have been Alex (which is what I thought when I wrote it) _but_ it could have been Ben who partners and saves Alex's life next mission, or it could could have been Tray who was a mole and survived to give their next report and therefore to endanger Alex by giving Scorpia information or it could have been Dave who, bless him, wasn't that good spy at all and didn't really effect anyone - until he runs over a glass bottle that... Okay I'll stop. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you enjoy. (I just had a similar bug to Alex).

He was off for a whole week.  
In term time.  
Just before the exams.  
When he was actually there compared to being shot at in some alley or foreign country due to his _friends_ at the bank.  
And he was properly ill. So ill that Alex swore to Tom, when he briefly visited ground zero, in a near silent voice that he didn't feel like "death warmed up, more like a zombie that's been microwaved – twice". So ill that he couldn't even revise or relax because he was too busy being _ill_.

It was of course Alex's luck that ensured that the assassin when he was so incapacitated, unable to fight or run due to the lack of food his body endured due to the vomiting fits. But it was the same luck that let Alex survive when the killer tripped over one of the many piles of tissues Alex had created over the weekend while creeping around in the dark (to help with the eye-splitting headaches the illness brought).

The assassin (not one of the best admittedly, but the criminals were having to make some cuts and one of the secretaries thought the one across Alex's throat shouldn't need to be too expensive- he was wrong) managed to break his toe as he slipped into the banister and then stab his hand with the new metal decoration Jack had brought. The assassin then decided due to the overwhelming amount of _pain _he was experiencing and the traps he had already encountered that he would give this one up for now (the secretary _really_ did want to make a saving) and get his hand looked at.

So Alex survived. And when Jack got home she asked if Alex was intending to use the tissue piles for biological warfare against MI6 before she binned the lot of them. She could have arrived early if the girl at the checkout hadn't been new at the job and if the bus hadn't been late (_again_). But it didn't happen that way (so does it matter at all?)


	26. Chapter 26

Effects of a Rider chapter 26  
AN: Please review! Apologies for inaccuracies; I haven't researched dreams very much but the idea struck so... I've found this straying into how Alex is being effected by others as well. Should I do more like this one or should I simply stick with how he effected other people? Thanks for reading.

"_and the tigers come at night..."_ - I dreamed a dream from Les Miserables

Alex had stopped dreaming. (Not just at night, he no longer had any ambitions - except to survive, and even that was up for debate sometimes.)

Occasionally he had "night terrors" as Jack so tactfully termed them, when he woke up shaking, terrified, suddenly paranoid without knowing why. Because he hadn't dreamed.

' Course he knew that mostly people don't remember their dreams when they have them but he _was sure_ he hadn't dreamed since... well, he wasn't dreaming.

He had heard from somewhere that dreams give your brain time to sort out past events, to help keep you sane and functioning. He was falling apart and it was effecting his life, his performance, his act (_the Amazing teenage male!_)

So, he had walked out of the talent show that Tom had dragged him to because that _stupid _ song had struck too close to home. The other kids (including the performer) thought he walked because the song was bad but that wasn't fair. The girl _was_ trying and he had to leave or have his cover break when he started crying. It wasn't the girl's fault that the song was a little to true for him to handle (adjusted to lies as he was).

So later on while he was alone with the girl (so there were no witnesses) he had apologized and told her quietly, secretly an explanation - "you sung it too well".

"Looking back, I did my first real performance at school and somebody walked out. They told me later they had to because I sung it well. It was the first real praise I got. It inspired me to keep on singing which lead me to my charity work and my job. I'd like to thank that person if they're listening. You made a difference. Thanks."- extract from an interview.


	27. Chapter 27

Effects of a Rider chapter 27  
AN: Thank you to Wheel Then for suggesting an Ark Angel based fic which lead to this and all the people who reviewed last chapter! The manor houses in the Uk did really suffer due to lose of their heirs in WW1 but apologies for an inaccuracies. Please enjoy and review!

This family had lived in for the village for generations working at Neverglade. His great-grandmother before she died had told tales of when royalty had come to the house, of the many generations of the family that lived and died there. All of his family had some point worked in the house and Bill knew every corner of it and it's secrets. He had loved the pure history of the place, the home that had fed and paid for the village for so many decades. But then it had been sold.

The whole family had tried to prepare themselves for the loss of the employment source by encouraging the youngest generation into other careers but it was still a blow. They knew the end was coming ever since the heir and the second in line died in the Great war leaving the untrained third brother the manor thing had been going downhill. And then son got into gambling debts and the staff of the house was downsized until it was practically just his family running the place. It was his father who came running down the hill tears on his face when the old place burnt down (they all knew who really started the fire- but who would believe them?) and the land was sold to one Nikolei Drevin.

The new castle (_the monstrosity_ as all of the village called it under their breath) didn't fit the land, anymore than the owner did. The former Russian _generously_ employed a few of the village members as token support of the community but used his own employees for everything else. Bill had managed to secure one of the (low-paid) jobs available as grooms-man, he wanted one of the family to still be at the old place despite the change in ownership and the man's horses _were_ beautiful. And in his opinion, totally unappreciated with Drevin and his son only coming to the castle a few weeks per year which meant he had to create a exercise regime for all four and stick to it regardless of the comings and goings of the owners.

He had been brushing one of his beauties' tails when he had seen the young blond boy Drevin had invited wondering past.

"Good afternoon."  
"Hi. Do you look after the horses, I saw them from the road earlier and they look great?"  
"Yes, that I do. They're proper expensive thoroughbreds. Do you ride?" Bill asked.  
"Once. It didn't go quite as planned..." the boy trailed off.  
"Would you like to have a short ride? I was about to take ride out soon anyway?" Bill offered.  
"No thanks, but thanks for the offer."

Once Bill found out Drevin the elder was dead he discovered that Paul the son intended to stay at the house permanently with his mother he was pleased. Perhaps the house would have a new family at last instead of just an owner. Maybe there was hope for the future. Just maybe.

Alex didn't have time to be guilty over Drevin's death but he occasionally thought of the lonely son and hoped it would turn out okay for him in the end.

And maybe it did.


	28. Chapter 28

Effects of a rider chap 28  
AN: I picked Bhutan from a random country generator, sorry if inaccurate. Please, please review!

Bizarrely, I never planned to do this job or end up in this country. I wanted to travel the world have adventure, but when the time came... I dunno. I just stayed instead, wasn't quite brave enough to find adventure but just stayed at home instead. I ended up as Career advisor in a city school. And that in itself was an education of a kind. About the world and the people in it. The kids I met and their stories taught me stuff. That Kids dream (for the impossible), Kids change (for better or for worse and nearly always when confronted Kids lie.

After a couple of years it kinda started to became too familiar, I wasn't brave enough to look for something different but I just started to categorise people into convenient stories and roles.

That the loner geek wouldn't become a successful writer but end up as a accountant. That the troublemaker would find its place guaranteed. That the loosers would stay as such for the rest of their lives.

I had given up. And the kids knew it and careers advice was seen as unnecessary chore not the life changing inspiring experience it could be...

I dunno who he was. (And I kinda regret it now).

Something about him and sullen answers made me stop. He seemed like a living contradiction.

A kid that wasn't. That didn't follow my rules but his own with his answers that turned my questions back at me.

"_What do you feel inspired to do?"_

"_To live."_

"_What about your future? You have to think ahead?"_

"_Believe me I do." _Looking back I can hear the words "Do you?"

Maybe it was just me. (Maybe 6 cups of coffee weren't a substitute for sleep.)

But that conversation... spoke to me.

I'm going to Bhutan next holiday. Why not? It's not as if real life will wait.

I don't want to have to be reminded that Kids are people and futures don't come in one size fits all. (Because some people don't have one at all – and _I _ am _not _going to be one of those people.)

It's selfish but how can you be a good example if you don't live too.


	29. Chapter 29

Effects of a Rider chapter 29; Change in direction  
AN: I thought I would do someone a little more cannon for this chapter. Please review and thanks so much for reading.

Ben wasn't really sure when exactly he wanted to change his job, but when the recruiters came he didn't say no.

SAS to MI6. Not a common move and not one received well by all.

So many people asked why and he couldn't answer them truthfully. (For who in this day and age would truly believe someone when they say it is because it's "the right thing to do". Not the spooks for sure.)

But it felt right. He didn't like the ambiguity of right and wrong that his new work introduced him to and he missed the comradeship that he had shared with Wolf and the others. But... sometimes when he spotted a threat, was able to help a ally, it felt right. Like he was meant to be here.

He had been horrified when he discovered that the free computers were a plot to kill kids but had worried about why no-one had found out beforehand. Why had a gunman who shot the Prime-minster had to save them with his actions? (A tiny part of his mind had always insisted that he recognised the gunman's small stature but his orders didn't let him get closer to check.)

Then he discovered Alex. Saved him from the vicious brute of a fighter while all the time asking why his bosses would do such a thing. Surely they had standards? Using a teen? Then he discovered Rider. The brutal way he dealt with that hospital. How the spy was only a little shocked at his _Godfather's_ betrayal (because how many traitors, how many people letting him down did it take for someone to be immune to that? To accept it?)

He's stayed with MI6. Despite his morals and anger at them for what they have done.

Because...

because...

because if it all goes wrong and debts are called in (and he owes Alex a debt for not doing anything to help him) he might by needed on the inside.

(Or even worse, if he breaks – for teenagers are such a security risk – and defects he might be needed on the other side.)

Either way, he's here and he hopes (so bad) that he's doing the right thing.


	30. Chapter 30 - It's a dog's life

Effects of a Rider chapter 30  
AN: Reached chapter 30! Didn't think that would happen. This chapter is from Snakehead when Alex escapes the Organ Stealer place and drugs the guard dog. This is the guard dog viewpoint. Thanks for sticking with me and please keep reading and reviewing.

Me Spike.

Jacko likes me. He feeds me. Meat often.

Not Good dog. No inside house so must be Good Dog. Not. Jacko says Dog.

Can hear something. Something to bite? No. Just rat. Bad dog if chase rats. No rats. Twolegs instead. Bite twolegs. Not jacko but others. Leave quick. In bits. Other twolegs smell like them. Spike mustn't bite then. Bad dog when Bite.

Always bad dog if go into house. Could but not bad dog. Spike good dog. Spike me.

Jacko on floor. Bleeding. Not moving. Help? Bite? House? No bad dog if house. No house. Do what? Think. Leg itches. Scratch.

Definitely something here. Twoleg. Short stay. Bite? No twoleg in house. If house Bad dog. No bite?

Twoleg has meat. Hungry. Bad dog for chase rats. No food. Hungry. Eat? But not Jacko. Short Stay. Eat? Hungry. Eat.

Tastes strange but Hungry. Eat. Tired. Wrong. On ground. Tired. Twoleg Short stay outside. Bite! But tired. Tired. Need sleep. Twoleg gone. Bad Dog. Bad dog.

Always Bad Dog.


	31. Chapter 31

Effects of a Rider chap 31  
AN: I was speaking with a friend and realised 30 chapters is _commitment _(very scary word). I've got a poll going about this story so please vote and/or review. (I read them and love them.) Hope you enjoy!

I hope that Tom did say thanks to Alex for the cheque. And for everything else. (I got out of the house as soon as I could, but now I feel a bit of a coward for not sticking around for Tom, at least Alex did).  
After all it was how I met Sharon.

I had just got the check and rushed over to the Extreme sports shop in town (there was a trip going in a couple of weeks that I wanted to be in on, but I needed gear for that). She was a shop assistant all long hair and legs and beautiful smile, and she helped me to get the new equipment I wanted. She didn't quite believe that I could afford it all until I showed her the check and gave an (edited) version of the tale. One with no younger brothers or dubious circumstances.

It was only after I paid the bill, that she gave me her phone number and told me that she worked on commission in the store. Talk about lucky.

The first date went well, and the third. (The second – not so good – but she forgave me eventually after I cancelled going to the big HALO trip to apologize to her in person. I never told her how glad I was afterwords – two people died because of freak winds into the rocks – I could have been one of them I guess.)

But it's all working out. (I still don't have the guts to asks Tom what exactly his mate is doing – a check that big... Must be something coll like saving the world or spying or something.)


	32. Chapter 32

Effects of a Rider chap 32  
AN: This is the policemen who gives the news in Stormbreaker. Apologises if offensive but I started thinking what if he had been told to lie. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed especially Wheel then for the recommendation and Bloodredfirefly. Please review, and enjoy!

The Policeman

It was my turn again. It was 3 in the morning and I really wanted a coffee and to get out of the damp but that was so petty of me. To be thinking about my frozen feet when I was here to tell someone's family that one of their members has died.

I hate telling the relatives.

We no-one enjoys it, for obvious reasons, but something about turning up on the door step to deliver the news seems so... cold.

But this time is worse. Because I've instructed to lie to them. I don't think that the higher ups ever expected me to see the car when it was brought in. But I did and I know that it wasn't a "car crash" it was an attack an assassination. But I've been ordered to tell them its a car crash. The higher ups have threatened my job, it wasn't there but if I don't say the lines they've given me I be fired within the week. And I need this job.

They might be in danger. The remaining family that is. IF someone cared enough to kill the Uncle they might come back for the full set. They don't even know they're in danger. And the Powers That Be want to keep it that way. But...

It won't make that much difference, right?

They won't doubt the car crash excuses (not if a policemen tells them, people respect the law, the justice that we work for. But this is justice). I should tell them the truth. That the Uncle was shot and if they have any sense they should run, get out of the country, find somewhere the Powers that Be can't get them.

But I won't.

I wish that the Uncle hadn't died. Because that way I wouldn't have discovered the truth.

Because I'm a coward. And always will be. And I'm ashamed. (I hope they find the truth.)


	33. Chapter 33

Effects of a Rider chapter 33 - Sunthorn's tale  
AN: Any feedback or suggestions you've got are very welcome. Thanks for reading! PS. Is it me or are these getting more depressing?

Sunthorn had lost. (Lost everything.)

He had last lost when he was 5, when he was mugged for the few coins he had on his first day on the streets (too many mouths to feed at home). He got revenge on them. One of the betting masters had noticed how fast he was and laughingly rewarded him with some bread and made him his pupil.

Then his new master taught him to punch where it caused the most pain by practicing the blows on him, breaking his nose, marring his face forever. He was told that it made him "look tough" as the tears ran down his face (he didn't cry after that, what was the point when nobody cared?). But the boy learned and was put out the fight and earned the title Sunthorn.

The boy grew up.

Years later only the champion, the winner, remains and he is facing a foreign child in his ring. And he is contemptuous because what can a boy do against the mighty Sunthorn, winner of unnumbered fights? (He forgets that he was once a boy before the fighting began).

But the boy fights back and that is good because it is fun to see the defeat in their eyes and he's winning and the boy is bleeding and life is good (he forgets that he was once bleeding on the floor long ago). But then it happens, the boy cheats and he falls into darkness.

He's beaten when he wakes because he has betrayed the Snake-head and they have lost so much profit and respect. But he feels more than the broken bones they inflicted, when he is left on the streets and the arena is burnt because he will never be called Sunthorn, the champion again. Because he has lost (and the five year old boy with no name inside him cries because he his has forgotten how to live). So he doesn't.


	34. Chapter 34 - The Minion's side

Effects of a Rider chapter 34  
AN: This is dedicated to the minions of the fiction world. (May be slightly unrealistic but it was an idea of mine. If I had minions I would totally pay mine properly and not torture them, any volunteers?) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far (and to UnknownLep13 thanks!). Please enjoy (and review).

They were only following orders (they also knew how bad a defence, an excuse that was but it had one advantage; for better or for worse – it was the truth.) Most of them didn't have a choice – when the hiring offer is "serve me or die" (or see your family die, or watch your house burnt down or worst secrets given the newspapers, or your family kidnapped – all variations on the same theme) most won't say no.

They did as they were told (cleaning rooms, smuggling drugs, feeding the victims, killing the prisoners). But usually _only_ what they were told. (Why check that suspicious corner, mention that suspicious figure, try to rescue that boss?) They don't get paid enough (when they get paid at all) to make that extra effort and often the bosses take the phrase "shoot the messenger" too literally. They try to help (a small percentage warn the police – when they aren't corrupt, clean the prisoners wounds, pull the punches, slip a key, take a risk).

They are in the background (they are the guards, the cleaners, the soldiers, the scientists, the workers. They are the traitors, the fighters, the moles, the casualties.) so they don't matter. They have no names (or not ones that their bosses know about. Who bothers to introduce their minions, their fodder?) so nobody cares.

They know they can get killed (everyone one of them has heard of someone who the boss disposed of when they served badly, or became useless or displeased them or simply were just there to vent their anger onto. And they wonder why there isn't any loyalty.) unlike their bosses who believe they will never get caught (not them, they won't die because they are special, they didn't make stupid mistakes, they have a good plan, they are different from all the others who fell) they know their own mortality.

But secretly, they live in hope (because what other choice is there when your life is controlled by a mad man? When the boss is just as likely to kill for serving him as he is to pay you, when your life is worthless – when you're just another unnamed faceless servant.). Because they might just get out of this alive/ sane/with morals intact/ with their family safe. Because this time it might just end happily ever after for the nobodys. Because their sacrifice might have been worth something. Because (if there is any justice in the world it might end the right way just once).

And Alex is grateful. (Because where there is hope, there might be compassion. Where's compassion there might be action. Where there's action there may be opportunity. And with an opportunity he might just come out of this alive.)

He is grateful for the minions who _only_ follow orders and don't check the above the bed's, the grunts who don't get paid enough to mention that strange teenager, the servants who aid him in small ways, the unnamed faceless figures who act and change his world.

(Because they, sometimes, care enough to make a difference. And because those who care for him end up dead.)


	35. Chapter 35

Effects of a Rider chapter 34  
AN: This one is sad. Please review, also any chapter suggestions (especially from my new minion!:)) will be gratefully received.

I know that a foreigner had just climbed out of the big river. I know it, I saw it! Why won't Mummy believe me? I'm not making up stories this time; it was real. Look he's just over there.

He's putting a finger to his lips, he wants me to be quiet. Why does he want me to be quiet Mummy? Is he playing hide and seek? Should we go and hid too?

Mummy wants me to be quiet, the monster men are here with the guns. I don't like them; the sound hurts my ears. Mummy always tells me to stay away from them,o do what they say. They're talking to Mummy now. I can't quite hear them but Mummy is very upset, she's crying. She always tell me not to cry when I'm hungry, just to go to sleep. I tell her that she should go to sleep, that it will be better in the morning, but she's not listening to me. She's shouting that she didn't see him. Are they looking for the river boy? But the gun men don't play games. That can't be right.

I HATE BANGS NO BANGS! NO BANGS! Mummy tell them no bangs! Mummy? She's ignoring me, she's sleeping. But that's not right, you sleep at home not at the market. Mummy what's going on?

Get off me. Mummy! One of the gun men is holding me. I don't like it. He's hurting my arm and smells bad. He's shouting something. He's pointing a gun at me. Mummy what's going on? I don't like this. Mummy!

The hiding boy has come out. He's shouting at the gun men. But you're not supposed to shout at the gun men ever. Mummy told me never ever to do it. Why isn't Mummy waking up and telling _him_ not to? The gun men have grabbed the river boy now. He's still shouting at them.

Ow. The gun man shoved me. They're leaving. It's okay, you can wake up now Mummy. They're gone. Wake up!

Please.


	36. Chapter 36: Fiona's story

Effects of a Rider chapter 36  
AN: This is Fiona's story from Point Blanc (I don't actually have Point Blanc so sorry for an mistakes). Please read, review and enjoy! Any suggestions are welcome. I always thought that them playing with the guns was very suspicious...

Fiona Friend would have died on Wednesday the 23rd of April aged 16 from multiple gunshot wounds and ultimately blood-loss.  
She would have died alone and in great pain.  
She would not have inherited the Friend empire, she would not have survived to get her GCSE results, she would not have survived to be an amateur female jockey (and would not have survived to be criticized by the society dames for her active behaviour and to be praised by the papers as an example to other young people.) She would not have survived to start a charity that provided horse rides to amputees and disabled peoples as part of therapy schemes. She would not have supported horse rights and fair treatment. She would not have survived to pay her taxes.

She would have died from her boyfriend playing a "game" with her with his father's shot gun after she attempted to dump him for one of his friends.  
She wouldn't have made it back to school for the summer term and be made school prefect (a post that she matured into).

But Fiona Friend wasn't in the woods with Rufus on Wednesday the 23rd of April. Instead she was trying to ruin Alex's cover in the house due to her broken ankle (an injury she only received after attempting to impress that "city boy" by taking a short-cut through a train tunnel).  
She never met Rufus on that day.  
Alex saved her life, and she never realized. Why should she? It was only fate.


	37. Chapter 37

Effects of a Rider chapter 37  
AN: This chapter's charecter could be the (CIA?) agent who waterboarded Alex in Scorpia Rising or any other of the guys who have hurt him a mission. Thanks to eveybody who has reviewed or made suggestions and akosi-cordz you can gladly be my second minion (_I have minions!:))_. Please review and enjoy.

I almost killed a kid through torture today at work.  
You could call it a hell of a wakeup call.

I almost killed a kid through _torture_ today at work.  
It wasn't humane, it was evil.  
I had promised myself when I took the job that I would never give in to evil that if I had to kill in the line of duty, for the job, it would always be quick and clean as I could make it. (I wonder when I started breaking that promise and are shocked when I can't remember.)

I almost killed a _kid_ through torture today at work.  
He was a teenager, mouthy sure, obnoxious and too involved for his own good but he was still a _kid_.  
Someone who should be protected, guided, not water-boarded for information we weren't sure he even _had!_

I almost _killed_ a kid through torture today at work.  
It would have been the end for him.  
No girlfriends, no work, no drunken evenings out.  
And I would have never gotten the blood off my hands. Never would have been clean again (the ends justifying the means doesn't help you at night when you can't avoid the facts).

I almost killed a kid through torture today at _work_.  
And that is terrifying.  
When did just following orders – even those ones, especially those ones - become so normal?  
How did I just let myself become so detached from it all?  
Why didn't I just say know?  
What kind of monster am I, if anything is acceptable if its part of my job?

_I_ almost killed a kid through torture today at work.  
It wasn't anybody else. I have no-one else to blame. It was ultimately my choice. I did it.

I _almost_ killed a kid through torture today at work.  
I wonder if he had died, if I would even be thinking this or still be the machine that just does the job in front of him.  
It was so close. And I'm ashamed. And I'll never get to apologise (because he is gone and everyone is reassuring me that I only did my job).  
And that's the worst thing, because I _was_ only doing my job.


	38. Chapter 38

Effects of a Rider chap 38: The sniper's thought  
AN: Thanks to Darkheart du Luc for the prompt of the assassin who shot Alex at the end of Scorpia. I was rereading the chapter when I saw that he "never missed". Which lead to this slight crossover of a chapter with an ex-assassin who also never missed. Who knows, it could have happened this way. Please enjoy and review.

He had been paid to "take revenge" for his employers. From the subtle signs he had glimpsed he knew his life would be forfeit if he messed up this job, Scorpia wasn't forgiving of mistakes.  
And anyway, he hadn't worried about losing his life or the £50,000 in cash he had been contracted for because he _never missed_.

He had aimed for the heart despite his _employers_ _wishes_ to cause the target as much pain of possible before the end because it was part of his signature – the instant kill – and despite everything he recognised that he _could _be that kid, and he would want a clean death as possible when it came.  
(And it would come soon. He was getting into the deeper waters and either he would be caught or killed while on a contract or he himself would snap.)

But he had missed. Oh, he had hit the boy all right (just as ordered, the good little assassin) but he had not hit the target (tell the truth, it was the boy's heart you were aiming at, you were trying to kill a kid who probably just got in _Scorpia's_ way, an innocent).  
The boy stepping onto the pavement changing the entry point of the bullet is something you should have predicted and prepared for (you missed the patten, you're losing the edge you're so proud of, how long 'till a mistake costs you your life?)

He left immediately before even the sirens started so he wouldn't be found (so he wouldn't have to face the consequences).  
The shot still should have been lethal.  
But by some miracle or fluke of luck he survived.

He had been so _thankful_ (that he didn't have more blood on his hands, more red in his ledger) despite the consequences it brought. Because after the kill (or the attempted kill, to be accurate) he did a little covert research to who this boy, which Scorpia wanted dead, actually was (looking back maybe it was the combination of failure to kill the boy _and _breaking into Scorpia's files was what caused them to try to kill him). He was victim of blackmail that saved innocent lives. He was a hero that lost too much already (he sympathised with him for losing his parents, it was pretty much all that he and this remarkable kid had in common. Because he was weak, he had killed for money while Alex Rider fought to save the world).  
And he had almost killed him.  
Almost.

Maybe it wasn't luck that he survived.  
Maybe he never wanted to kill him at all.  
Maybe it was fate.

So he stopped working as an assassin and started running.  
He was hidding in one of his safe houses on another continent and considering his next move (because he wanted out from this job that was painting his soul with black) when he met an agent in a plain suit, who gave him an offer to join a certain organisation where his ability to "never miss" would be highly valued, where he could do some good (to wipe out the red in his ledger).  
But that is another story.

Hawkeye, the assassin, never missed a shot.  
Except once. And he was glad he did.  
Because after-all, even hero's need hero's.


	39. Chapter 39 - A teaching aid

Effects of a Rider chap 39 - A teaching aid.  
AN: I'm not really sure with this one. I was trying to display the fustration of a young teaching assitant but it might have come out slightly _preachy_? As always please review and suggestions are welcome.

I'm just a substitute for a Geography lesson while the regular teacher is off sick. It's tough because the kids are acting up and aren't doing the work that they have been set. After all, why should they it's not as if I have the true authority to back up my position, its only the substitute how will get in trouble when they don't hand in the homework as expected as "the sub didn't give it to us Miss". There's no respect. And that makes this topic even harder for me to teach.

We're supposed to be looking at disparity in countries to prepare them for their up-coming exams but they aren't listening. They're mucking around, telling jokes, nattering to their friends, playing on their phones. Okay, a few are trying to listen but only a hand full. It infuriates me.

"Listen" I shout, trying not to lose my temper with them. "You do not realise how lucky you are." the few that stopped momentary go back to their distractions, I can tell that there expecting the traditional _"In my day..." _but right now I don't care. It's time for me to get something across to these kids or I will simply just walk out and give up like I seen others do in desperation.

"You are lucky. You have been gifted. You don't know how lucky you are all of you. Yes you may have problems, yes you may be worried about your future – but at least you have one! So many don't." I take a deep breath, images from my time working abroad flooding my brain.

"You have never had to worry if you are going to die from drinking the water you need to live, you have never truly been _starving_, what are you going to eat for lunch?" I directed my question at student at random.

"I don't know Miss. Maybe pizza or-"

"That's my point; you have a choice, you have _options _ available to you. Have any of you been genuinely been threaten by someone? Have any of you had a gun pointed at you or your family or a stranger and been genuinely scared for you're life? Have you? I doubt it. You can read and write. You are more fortunate than 785 million people! You have shelter, beds, central heating at home. You have a health system to support you and the right to vote. You are so _lucky_." A few were gaping open mouthed at my outburst but by the look of it none of the lot really had got it. I sighed and carried on with the lesson eager for it to be finished.

As I was packing my bag ready to leave, a blond teen came up to me. "Thanks for today's lesson. Sorry that no-one was really listening. You're right we don't appreciate it as we should."

Then he left.

I don't know who he was or what was going on in his life but he sounded as if he understood.  
_ I wish _ I had done more that say a muttered "you're welcome" because he didn't look well. Maybe he had trouble at home or something, I could have helped him.  
I wish I had done something more, something to help...

I wish that... the world was different. That my little speech hadn't been necessary. That he _hadn't _ understood in a way because understanding comes with a price.

I wish...  
but sometimes wishing doesn't work.


	40. Chapter 40

Effects of a Rider chapter 40 - Maybe  
AN: Chapter 40! Wow. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you made me feel better about it. This could be in any of Alex's missions when he is using foreign currency. Please forgive the unlikeliness (but then all of Alex Rider is a bit unlikely) of this story and it's slightly sappyness but after the last few depressing shots it may be a nice change. As always please enjoy and review (especially if you have any idea's for me!).

He had just finished yet another mission, the needed documents stowed carefully inside his coat lining and his head aching from the fighting he had to participate in to get them. As he waited in the small café for his contact to deliver the papers to (the man would appear sit on his table at the crowded restaurant and after finishing his drink he would depart leaving the document containing coat with the contact) he realised he was tired. Bone deep tired.

Tired of his life.  
Of the fighting, of the danger, of the missions, of the constant _lying_ to everybody and everyone.  
Tired and wanting to go home. (A childish response but one that could never be fulfilled since home was a place existing only in memory now. A place where his main concerns were homework and his football team and when he would get to watch the latest movie with Ian and Jack...)

His melancholy musings was shattered by the waitress arriving with his drink, a small smile on her face.  
"Thanks" he muttered to the waitress as he let his hands curl around the warmth, allowing himself some small comfort. He had been so cold...  
"Your welcome, your hot toast, sir." the waitress carefully deposited the plate in front of him.  
"But I didn't order-"  
"It's on the house." With a smile she left him wondering...

It hadn't been on the house, in fact it would be coming out of her meagre wages, but he had looked so cold and _thin_ sitting there by himself. She thought he could do with something to eat. So she had given him something. If all her problems were that easy to solve. The landlord wouldn't take good intentions for payment that's for sure. She sighed, she would never be able to afford night classes at this rate – even working full time her wages wouldn't be enough to cover her rent and the payments.  
But moaning about it wouldn't do a thing so she rolled up her selves and started to collect the dishes for the kitchens.

Alex soon realised from watching the other customers that the toast was defiantly not complimentary and that from the state of his waitress's nail varnish she couldn't afford it either. She did it because she had wanted to, because she cared (having someone care for him felt strange, nobody ever did on a mission). He sighed, he would like to thank her but his contact had just entered and he really should leave. So he simply left what foreign change he had left onto the table as a generous tip and hoped his message was understood.

She scooped up the change he had left grateful for the tip, he was probably unfamiliar with the currency to give her that much but she appreciated the gesture all the same...  
A small familiar shape caught her eye. Surely not? It couldn't be, he would have realised! It was.  
It was one of the rare coins her uncle had shown her many years ago before his collection was sold off to pay the debts.  
She carefully slid it into her bag well out of sight.

Maybe she could pay this month's rent after-all...  
Maybe she could manage to scrimp enough to afford the night classes...  
Maybe she was right to do what was she thought should be done, to try to be altruistic when nobody else was...  
Maybe she had a future...

Maybe.

And far away, a teen who wasn't a child anymore thought that maybe, just maybe, somebody cared. Maybe he was right.

The human race relies on maybes and what-could-have-beens.  
Some hurt.  
Some don't.  
But some lead to hope and some, one day, might just may be.


	41. Chapter 41

Effects of a Rider chap 41  
AN: This is about the journalist Harry Bulman from Snake Head. Opinion in here are that of the character not 41! WOO! In reponse to a review I will proobably continue this untill I either run out of ideas or reviews. As always enjoy.

They always said it would lead to a bad end.  
(He had never really believed them at the time).  
That his curiosity would get him killed.  
He hates to realise that in his last few seconds of life they were right.  
Totally right. He should have listened.  
He regrets that now.  
(For what little it's worth).

That he put his job (and his greed) above everything else in his life.  
This is how the life of Harry Bulman ends (and he can't start again).

He always wanted to be rich.  
Not comfortably off, like so many deigned to be (no ambition at all!) but properly filthy rich.

He had started off well, an education at Eton none the less, but then he had been expelled after they found out about the drugs. They couldn't _prove _ anything but they kicked him out all the same (he was only trying to make some cash, always thought it was unfair – it was their choice to take the stupid things after all!).

He had gone into the marines (and hadn't that ended well!) hoping to make a career of it.  
The dishonourable discharge was complete bull in his opinion (taking cover – not _hiding – _was the logical thing to do when his unit came under fire).

He got married and divorced (his wife didn't understand him at all, didn't get why he would drop everything to chase some story).

He thought he had hit the jack pot when he found out about Alex Rider, thought he had found his calling at last. He hadn't cared what this might do to his life (Anyway didn't every kid want to become rich and famous? Well probably only famous as Harry would defiantly take _his _ section of the profits and he was always good at wriggling overheads into the fine print.)

But then that man _Crawley_ had turned his life upside down. He never imagined that MI6 could do such things, delete a person from existence entirely, frame them for their own _murder_. He couldn't peruse the story, couldn't cash in the biggest opportunity of his life. A bitter taste indeed. And all Rider's fault.

So when he had been approached, given the opportunity to get revenge (and the money) he had taken it. Told them everything. And enjoyed it.  
(Not realising that he was putting himself in danger, make him worthless to them).

But then he had pushed it (as he always did in his life, pushed to see how far he could go) and demanded more money. And got shot for his trouble.

As he lies bleeding out on the floor he realises that they were right.  
His parents telling him he was to greedy for his own good.  
His old school friends saying that it would all end badly.  
His army comrades claiming he was just a coward.  
His wife sobbing that he hadn't got his priorities right at all ("You're ruining people's lives don't you care?").  
But most of all he regrets not listening to that blasted Rider boy actually said.

"You don't want to do this".

He should have remembered that you don't deal with the bad guys. They deal with you.


	42. Chapter 415 - Lucky draw?

Effects of a Rider chap 41.5 - Lucky draw?  
AN: Yes, 41.5. You may ask why but all will be explained next chapter. Thanks to everybody who has reviewed and stayed with me so far. I do appreciate it. Enjoy! (My family has been strangly lucky with raffles recently so these charecters just appeared.)

Alex sighed as he watched the woman he was following leave the village fate. It had been pleasant in the sunshine and it had been interesting, if not fun due to the constant need to keep a covert eye on his target, going to the different stalls. He would have to follow her.  
"Here have this. I can't stay." He handed off his ticket to a passer-by and sighed before starting off to follow his target.

Danny stared in surprise at the cash that the stranger's winning ticket from the raffle had got him. He hadn't been expecting this at all. He could pay off that loan-shark now, he wouldn't need to sell anymore of his stuff to pay the debt. This was a sign he decided. This wasn't just a coincidence, it was a message. He would pay him off and _never_ borrow from that double-dealer again. No sirree. He would stand on his own two feet from now on. Maybe his sister would let him see his nieces again, when he told her the good news.

The loan-shark inwardly groaned as the guy handed the last of what he owed. He hadn't ever expected what-his-name (Danny?) to pay it off, cause whoever did with the interest rates he sneaked in. Oh well. Maybe he could buy some more cocaine with it. Good stuff that is...

The mortician sighed. Another cocaine overdose. Another body to prepare. Honestly, he wondered why some days...


	43. Chapter 43 - The truent's tale

Effects of a Rider chap 43 – the Truent's tale  
An: Sorry about the last chapter. In my defense I have been distracted by the heat (27 degrees C is _not _ the correct temperature for the UK) and an chapter idea for using Hitchhiker's guide for the galaxy that I may at some point write. That and my new obbession with Startrek fanfiction. Please read and review and enjoy this chapter. I don't necessarily agree with the opinions of the charecter but the situation demanded itself be written.

I am a star.  
I have a glowing future ahead of me, jobs practically guaranteed whichever profession I choose (except perhaps for education).  
I will be _paid_ to take a university course in Electrical Engineering, sponsored by Microsoft.  
I am currently enjoying some the best secondary school education in the world (most of my classes have three pupils in).  
I am one of the few thousand who profited in the massacre. And I am not proud of it.  
But life goes on, _for some of us_.

In a horribly brutal (and slightly sick) view, the UK has has actually benefited, in some ways, from the deaths of a huge percentage of its secondary school age population. The UK no longer has such a desperate unemployment problem now. (When business owners realised what the lack of new workers entering the employment market meant they started taking in older or less attractive candidates and training them properly, apprenticeships expanded in a major way and learning "on the job" became the norm.)

They (by that I mean the government) after the compulsory quota of panic, leapt at the chance to refine the school system. They started firing teachers from state schools left, right and centre only keeping the best (because they would need the best to fill the holes left by half a generation gone). Private schools pretty much collapsed; why should you pay for education when state schools were actually providing good education for from taxes?

The mobile industry suffered for a while, before it recovered. Ditto with the entertainment industry (all of those kids no longer watching movies, or urging parents to buy box-sets or magazines or games.) until they adapted to the new markets.

Some economists reckoned that the alcohol and cigarettes companies took a hit as well (not that _they_ were advertising that fact since it most of the profit lost was from under-age drinking and smoking).

Remembrance day is taken a lot more seriously now. Many under tens lost a sibling, many parents lost children or nephews or nieces. People take the whole day of work to pay their respects at the sites of the mass graves (there wasn't enough time or space for proper burials in the countryside, in the cities it was even worse – they couldn't let people in for _days_ due the risk of contamination). Nobody grafitees the memorials now.

Parents are a lot more protective now about children. Heck, _everybody _ is more protective of children now. _Any _suspected abuse is reported, conditions like self-harm and depression are taken much more seriously now. (After all a huge proportion of the country is grieving or has PTSD.)

Most of my friends and peers are dead. Almost every teenager I saw at school or at the park or at juvie is dead. The majority of what they call the Survivor's (any still living child between the age of 11 and 16) and I survived because we were truanting or off ill or off on holiday.

I only survived because was rebelling against society and authority.  
I was killing time taking drugs for the high while at school my friends suffered and died.  
I got punished for it by losing my friends and rewarded for it by being given a future.

(Sometimes I get nightmares about what my life would have been, sometimes I dream that Storm-breaker never happened at all and that I overdosed on something or choked to death on my own vomit while in a drunken stupor or simply got in a stupid fight over something f-ing stupid and died 'cause of it. And I hate myself when I'm glad it happened the way it did. I guess there's some truth to the saying "One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic".)

Three years on and it's still hard to believe it happened. The country's recovering they say. But everyday I see the scars. On me, on those I meet, on the land itself. The hate crimes that briefly started on the survivors have stopped completely now. The few terrorist groups _stupid_ enough to try take _credit_ for it have been _eliminated_. We don't know how but we're moving on.

But one thing's sure.  
It's going to take time before Britian is "great" again.  
But it will be. We owe them that much.  
We're not gonna let them hurt us again (and if we have to have an empire again to ensure it... well, it will be worth it.)


End file.
